


the time that is given us

by Light_On



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:13:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27780577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Light_On/pseuds/Light_On
Summary: “It’s up to you, you know,” Hazel said, kindly. She was sitting cross-legged in the crow’s-nest of the Argo II. “It’s always been up to you.”“I’m so cold,” Nico said, and the cloak was turning black as the dark smoke pillowing from Nico’s arms touched it.Hazel’s spatha lay at her feet, and she was lifting his face gently, staring unblinking into his eyes.“I love you,” she said, quietly, firmly, “and nothing, not even death could ever change that.” Nico’s tongue was too heavy to move, he was choking on black smoke and fumes.“You have a choice,” Hazel said suddenly. “It won’t be easy, but it could be worth it. Your home could be worth it.”Nico was drowning in the cloak and dark smoke and her love. Blood dripped down his shoulder.
Relationships: Nico di Angelo/Will Solace
Comments: 6
Kudos: 57





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [the train station](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6997183) by [dirgewithoutmusic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirgewithoutmusic/pseuds/dirgewithoutmusic). 



Nico woke up like smoke – unmoored, drifting through the air. His chest was full of fire, blood, iron.

He took another breath and the pressure on his lungs lessened – the pain of knowledge and sacrifice leached away as his eyes blinked open. Strawberry fields and a pine tree faded into Venetian canals. The strained hum of a city on edge cut through the sounds of battle and death.

Nico was born in this city – now a foreign one. He took his first steps under the shadows cast by Gothic arches and had dozed in the shade of nettle trees. He knew the house rising slowly in his vision – _his_ house, his and Bianca’s and his mother’s. The shroud of the Lethe burned away with every breath Nico took – he sat up.

“ _Fratellino_ ,” Bianca said, despairingly, “you’ve gotten yourself all dirty again.” She brushed the mud off of Nico’s knees with a laugh. Nico lurched unsteadily, flopping onto the grass by her side.

Black wisps of smoke were trailing off his hands and feet.

“Bianca,” Nico asked, a child full of trust and love and bitterness and hate, “how do you know when it’s time to go?”

“Oh, Nico,” Bianca replied, chuckling as she playfully swiped at his nose, “no one ever truly knows when their time has come. Few of us even have the chance to decide for ourselves. Some things, however much we might pray and beg, cannot be prevented.”

Nico tried to snatch her floppy green hat from her head, but his fingers only passed through it.

“But you knew when to leave,” Nico said, shivering as his bomber jacket slipped off his shoulders. He breathed out black smoke, and blood dribbled from his shoulder onto the grass.

“Maybe it’s okay to still be a kid once in a while,” Percy said. He was swinging on a rocking chair outside the Triple G Ranch, a fragile body among white stone and big windows. The entrance to the Labyrinth loomed in the distance, dark and majestic.

“I haven’t been a child for eighty years,” Nico said, sitting down beside him. Mussolini’s Italy on the brink of war had been the grave of innocence. The Titan War had ripped to shreds whatever spark of childhood remained.

“The end of childhood doesn’t mean you need to go through everything yourself,” Percy replied evenly, kicking out his legs.

Nico glanced up at him and saw a veteran of only one war. His arms were pale and unblemished – unbranded.

Nico looked out to the fields of red cattle.

“We haven’t been here in years.” It wasn’t a question.

“No,” Percy agreed, “we left, and we’ve been fighting ever since. And you’re still fighting now, can’t you tell?”

Nico’s jacket fell away from his shoulders. He shivered and plumes of dark smoke rose above his head. Blood dripped from his shoulder onto the porch.

“Is it time to leave yet?” Nico asked, tugging at Bianca’s sleeve.

She glanced away from her game of Pac-Man, looking him up-and-down.

“ _Fratellino_ ,” she said, smoothing down the curls of his dark hair, “that’s not my decision to make.”

People bustled around them, moving from game to game – the Casino was as busy as always. Care and love were carved into Bianca’s face as she gazed steadily at Nico.

He looked away.

“But I don’t know how to make it,” Nico said quietly. He felt small, evaporated. His hands were smoking.

“Oh, Nico,” Bianca said, takings his hands in hers, “In your heart, you do – in your heart, you’ve always known, you just need to listen.”

“Listen to what?” Nico asked plaintively. “I don’t understand!”  
  


But Bianca had turned back to her game and people were shoving their way around Nico – _through_ Nico. His jacket slipped off and black fumes clouded the edge of his vision. 

“But, Nico, you _do_ choose how to live your life,” Jason said, leaning against a broken column in Salona. He had an earnest look on his face.

_And so you run away again. From your friend, from yourself._

Cupid’s voice echoed through the ruined palace. Nico’s teeth chattered, and his jacket felt loose. Jason was still leaning, gazing at Nico.

Nico swallowed dryly. “No, I’m done running.”

“Are you really?” Jason asked, running a hand through his golden hair. “You’ve run away from both camps. You’re so afraid you’ll get rejected that you won’t even try. Maybe it’s time you came out of the shadows.”

“I-I’m trying! I want to try,” Nico said, but Jason was advancing on him now, stalking forward like a predator.

“Ha,” Jason said harshly, “We all know that if there’s something that Nico di Angelo actually wants, he’ll find a way to get it. You don’t _really_ want this – you don’t really want _us_.”

Nico shrank back, his bomber jacket fell to the floor.

“Well, maybe we don’t have any more time to wait,” Jason said, looming over him. “Maybe your time is finally up.”

Nico was shaking, dark fumes rising from his arms.

“No, it’s not up yet – it’s not,” he said to himself, eyes clenched closed. “Jason knows that, Jason wants me.”

Blood trickled down from his shoulder onto cold stone.

Nico opened his eyes to a Long Island sunset and the smell of pine.

“I had a present for you once,” Bianca said, eyes a million miles away. A faint silver glow traced its way around her body; there was a delicate silver bow hung over her shoulder. “You would’ve loved it – I know you would’ve.”

“Bianca, I’m scared.” Nico was so cold; his jacket lay at his feet.

“I dreamt of us together some day, you’d be all grown up and happy, and I’d be with you, free and young and bold.” Bianca closed her eyes. “Sometimes the price of freedom is too high to pay.”

“Bianca, I think I’m making the wrong choice – I don’t want to hurt anymore, _why does everything hurt_?”

Tears glistened on Bianca’s cheek, her head was tilted up to the sky. Constellations were beginning to sketch their way across a darkening sky.

“Holding grudges is our fatal flaw,” Bianca said. “But I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself.”

Nico felt like his soul was dissolving.

“We had one home,” Reyna said. “Now we have two.”

“Home,” Nico said, every breath a battle as his lungs brimmed with thick, black smoke. “I think I have a home, waiting somewhere.”

Reyna met his gaze, sitting placidly in the shadow of the Athena Parthenos.

“You will always have a home with me, Nico, if you choose to accept it.” Her black eyes bored into his. “My strength is yours whenever you need it.”

His jacket fell to his feet, discarded. Reyna rose, taking her shimmering purple Praetor’s cloak into her hands.

“You are not alone, Nico,” she said, laying her cloak onto his shoulders. “You will never have to be alone again.”

Nico shuddered, hands spewing black fumes. The cloak began to slip. 

“Oh, my son.”

Nico could barely raise his head. Maria di Angelo sat under the shade of a nettle tree, wearing Bianca’s smile and using Nico’s eyes.

“You’ve been so brave and so strong, _tesoro mio_ ,” she said, fastening the purple cloak around his neck. “Just be strong for a little longer.”

“It’s up to you, you know,” Hazel said, kindly. She was sitting cross-legged in the crow’s-nest of the _Argo II_. “It’s always been up to you.”

“I’m so cold,” Nico said, and the cloak was turning black as the dark smoke pillowing from Nico’s arms touched it.

Hazel’s _spatha_ lay at her feet, and she was lifting his face gently, staring unblinking into his eyes.

“I love you,” she said, quietly, firmly, “and nothing, not even death could ever change that.” Nico’s tongue was too heavy to move, he was choking on black smoke and fumes.

“You have a choice,” Hazel said suddenly. “It won’t be easy, but it could be worth it. Your home could be worth it.”

Nico was drowning in the cloak and dark smoke and her love. Blood dripped down his shoulder.

“So, where were you?” Will Solace demanded. He was wearing a green surgeon’s shirt with jeans and flip-flops, standing in the doorway to the infirmary. “You can’t help out a friend? Maybe cut bandages? Bring me a soda or a snack?”

His pale blue eyes were challenging, asking _why didn’t you try?_

Nico was sprawled out on the ground at his feet, tangled in cloak and the weight of a thousand different kinds of suffering. He wanted to get up, but he couldn’t – his legs were all smoke now.

“You have friends – or at least people who would like to be your friend,” Will said, reaching out his hand.

And Nico dreamed of home, an old house in a foreign city, a dark cabin on Long Island, a beautiful girl with gold eyes.

Nico lifted his hand to Will’s.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was a warmth beside Nico, a warmth that reminded him of heavy Venetian nights and Long Island s’mores and – and home. Nico wanted to see home, to make home, wanted with every fiber of his being.
> 
> He finally crested a wave, chasing that feeling.
> 
> “It’s up to you, you know. It’s always been up to you.”
> 
> Nico felt like he was fighting the inescapable pull of Tartarus, but he’d already escaped hell once, what was one more time.
> 
> His eyes flickered open to blinding sun.

Wakefulness washed over Nico like the tide – ebbs and flows but a gentle, unstoppable march forward. His body was leaden and sinking, buoyed along the waves by snatches of conversation.

A flash of sea-green. “He’s looking a little better right? A little more solid?”

“Yes, but it takes time to heal, especially from magical wounds.” A smudge of grey and yellow painted itself across the horizon of Nico’s world.

Time spun on around Nico – stars turned just above his eyes.

“We’re here, Nico.” A warm presence – golden and kinetic. “He seems so small. I-I wonder if he thinks he’s alone?”

The curl of cinnamon bit into the edges of Nico’s skin. “He might be small, but Nico's a survivor. He knows that we’re here for him.”

Moments slipped away from Nico – he chased them as well as he could, but they escaped anyway, hiding between the cracks in the world.

A contained fire was burning by him, a steady and sure strength that let Nico push a little closer to the crest of a wave.

A quiet exhale of breath.

Nico’s eyes weren’t quite so heavy anymore.

A gentle voice was humming by his side, sunlight splashing into his mind.

“You’re looking good today, sir. Temperature right about where it should be, yep, and the shoulder’s still not infected.”

There was a warmth beside Nico, a warmth that reminded him of heavy Venetian nights and Long Island s’mores and – and _home_. Nico wanted to see home, to make home, wanted with every fiber of his being.

He finally crested a wave, chasing that feeling.

_“It’s up to you, you know. It’s always been up to you.”_

Nico felt like he was fighting the inescapable pull of Tartarus, but he’d already escaped hell once, what was one more time.

His eyes flickered open to blinding sun.

“We might be moving your bed sometime soon.” Will Solace’s face faded in and out of Nico’s view, blond hair curling around his ears as he considered a clipboard in his hands. “Maybe the cure for Underworld darkness is some genuine Earth sunshine. I’ll have to check with Chiron, he might know –”

Will’s voice tapered off as he glanced up and met Nico’s eyes.

“More.” Will’s mouth hung open for a second, before slamming shut as years of ingrained bedside manner took over.

“Nico!” He exclaimed, a grin lighting across his features. “You’re awake!” He moved over to Nico’s side. “We knew you were getting better, but I gotta say, this is a lot more than I was expecting today!”

Nico tried to smile, but his face wouldn’t quite obey. His muscles were sandpaper dragging against his skin.

“Not that it isn’t a spectacular surprise,” Will went on, beaming, “and I know all your friends are gonna be psyched to see you awake!”

_Friends_ , Nico thought unsteadily, _they were really here? Then what about . . ._

“Bianca,” Nico croaked, every syllable drawing out pain from his unused throat. “Was she . . . ?”

Will’s face fell, concern overtaking his expression. He reached out a hand to feel Nico’s forehead – it was warm on Nico’s face.

“Nico,” Will said slowly, worry painting itself across his face, “Bianca hasn’t been at Camp for a long time. She’s. . . “

_Dead – for years now_ , Nico thought, mind syrupy and full of fog. He closed his eyes slowly, deliberately.

“I know,” Nico said, not daring to look up. “I know – I just thought,” his voice caught in his throat, “I-I hoped . . .”

Nico glanced skyward; the concern on Will’s face was deepening.

“Just a dream, I guess,” he said lowly to himself, dropping his gaze. Just another torturous dream to add to the collection.

“Nico,” Will began, sitting tentatively on the bed beside him, “I know we’re not really friends, but if you ever want to talk about anything . . .”

Nico looked at him then, mouth twisting wryly, an acidic retort on the tip of his tongue. But the expression on the son of Apollo’s face was nothing but genuine, if a little unsure, and as Nico glanced down to Will’s hands, twisting anxiously, he was struck by the sudden realization that Will had lost friends too – had lost brothers just as much as Nico had lost a sister.

Nico forced himself to meet Will’s blue eyes again, a vision of the healer reaching out to Nico, the offering of a home, playing in Nico’s mind.

“Thanks,” Nico said weakly, mouth not quite used to the shape it was making, “thanks, I-I appreciate it.”

“Of course,” Will replied quietly, face softening. The sheer earnestness in his eyes was nearly blinding.

The words hung in the air between them – a not-quite tension as Will gazed at Nico and Nico looked back, unblinking. Nico felt heat rushing to his cheeks as the silence grew; he hadn’t had a proper conversation with anyone besides Reyna or Coach Hedge in weeks.

_Is this how normal people talk?_ And then, suddenly – _I don’t think I’ve made a friend outside of a quest since the 1900s._

Will seemed unbothered by the pregnant pause, simply blinking twice and then patting Nico’s bed in a friendly way.

“Anyways,” Will said, getting to his feet, a ghost of a grin dancing across his mouth, “I need to go check on some other patients, but my door, or curtain or whatever, is always open.”

He met Nico’s eyes one more time, and Nico was struck by the overwhelming urge to say something, something _funny_ to make Will smile after such a depressing conversation.

“Well, from what I hear I have three days left here to help you figure out if it’s a door or a curtain.”

Nico could have slapped himself if he had the strength to lift his arms. Will looked dumbfounded, as if an alien had just descended from the heavens claiming to be a Martian. That wasn’t a joke – that was just _dumb_. Like just closed a car door on your own hand level dumb but –

A small smile was stealing its way across Will’s face, growing slowly as he barked out a laugh.

“Okay, di Angelo, I see someone’s feeling good enough to be rude.” But Will’s eyes were gleaming and lighthearted, and Nico hadn’t made someone laugh in _such a long time_. “I’ll let everyone know that you can handle visitors now – and warn them to watch out ‘cuz someone thinks he’s funny or something.”

Nico couldn’t help it, he was grinning as Will walked off, leaving a promise to come back later and sunshine in his wake.

* * *

“Dude, we were so worried,” Jason said, clutching at Nico’s hand as if to assure himself that it was truly solid. Nico felt vaguely discomfited that one of the Heroes of Olympus, Slayer of Krios, Praetor of the Twelfth Legion _Fulminata_ , and _Pontifex Maximus_ had been transformed into nothing more than a frightened teenager – he wasn’t used to people being this invested in his health.

“I’m better now,” Nico said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. Jason only squeezed his hand tighter from his perch on a chair by Nico’s beside.

“We know,” Hazel said gently, pushing some of his messy hair back from his forehead. “But you were practically see-through by the time we got you in here. We thought – _I_ thought I’d lost you.”

Her voice broke as she spoke, and Nico looked up at her from where she sat on his bed. Hazel’s clothes were all askew as if she had just thrown on whatever was nearest when she heard Nico was awake. She also wouldn’t stop touching him, making sure that he was _really_ there.

Nico dropped his head, guilt building up behind his temple like a brewing storm.

“I’m sorry,” he began slowly, but Hazel cut him off.

“No, Nico, there’s nothing to be sorry for,” she said forcefully, golden eyes flashing. “You didn’t do anything wrong, you have _nothing_ to apologize for. You get that, right?”

Nico hummed noncommittally. That kind of non-answer was usually enough to shut people up. But Hazel only leaned forward, filling up his vision with her face. She seemed – _worried_? Or maybe a combination of distraught and concerned? Her lips were all red and chapped as if she had been biting them.

“Nico, I need you to tell me that you know you didn’t make any mistakes – you finished the gods’ completely unfair quest and saved both Camps. You’re a _hero_.”

Hazel took a breath to gaze into his eyes seriously. Jason was nodding along emphatically from his chair.

“You saved me once before, and you saved me and the whole world this time. You’ve done so much more than anyone should ask of anybody, especially a kid,” she said, voice rising with emotion.

“I’m not a kid,” Nico said, almost petulantly. He felt as small and young as his voice sounded. “And besides, you and Jason and everyone else did all those things too. I don’t see what’s so different about me!”

Hazel’s eyes filled with a kind of sadness, as if Nico had somehow disappointed her, and Nico had to look away quickly to stop himself from apologizing on instinct.

Unfortunately, Jason was the only other person to look at and he only made it worse.

A pitying expression was etched across his face, and his eyes were soft and melancholy behind his golden glasses. Nico’s desire to apologize was slowly being replaced by a boiling anger.

“Nico,” he said, slowly, “the difference is that we know what we’ve gone through was horrible and unjustifiable and that no child ever have to fight in a war. We know that we deserved better. But do you know that?”

Jason and Hazel both looked so infuriatingly sad. Nico didn’t want their pity or compassion, he had been through too much and knew how little they were worth in the end.

“Of course I do,” he snapped bitterly. His temper was whipping into a tornado, splintering his self-control. The world was turning dark and painful – all Nico wanted was to wipe that expression of their faces. He was starting to shake apart at the seams.

“I’ve seen more evil than either of you can possibly imagine,” he spat. Jason and Hazel exchanged a heavy, worried glance but Nico plowed on. “Mussolini’s Italy wasn’t exactly a playground – Tartarus wasn’t a _vacation_!”

The shadows were warping now, tilting toward Nico, feeding off the Ghost King’s rage. The air around them was growing leaden, the sun didn’t seem nearly as bright as it had seconds ago.

“Believe me, I know exactly what price I’ve paid to survive this long,” Nico bit out. Jason looked alarmed and Hazel seemed like she was about to burst into tears, but Nico couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Nico, you need to calm down,” Jason said, cautious, as if he were talking to a wild animal about to attack.

Nico was about to spit out a withering response about the irony of the son of the King of the Gods patronizing the child of the outcast God of the Underworld, but Will Solace suddenly burst through the curtain by his bed, wearing a serious expression that seemed out of place on the teenager’s face.

His sudden appearance froze the words on Nico’s lips.

“Visiting hours are over,” Will said, almost tersely. “Time to go.”

Nico felt as surprised as Hazel and Jason looked. Will, the mild-mannered healer who apparently had an iron backbone.

“But,” Jason began, but Will cut him off almost instantly –

“Time to go,” he repeated flintily, a winter frost coating his words.

Jason looked as if he were going to protest more, but Hazel laid a hand on his arm and shook her head minutely. She got up, surveying Nico with a gaze that left him feeling x-rayed.

“We can talk more later,” Hazel said, an unreadable expression on her face. “Sleep well, Nico.”

She turned and left, almost physically dragging Jason after her. He looked like he had some choice words to tell Nico, but swallowed them, the effort physically straining his eyes.

“We’re not done talking about this,” Jason said, not unkindly with a frown etched on his face. “See you later.” He ducked out of the curtains.

Nico still felt as though he wanted to grind some poor skeleton into dust, his anger and pain almost a visceral thing coating his entire body.

“Hey, hey, Nico,” Will said gently, easing Nico back against the pillows. “We can’t have you getting too worked up, right now. You’re still healing.” And Nico was about to send a scaly retort Will’s way for treating him like a child, but the steely look in Will’s normally easy-going blue eyes made him pause.

“Doctor’s orders,” Will said. “Why don’t we take some deep breaths – calm down a little?”

All Nico wanted was to push Will straight off his bed, but inhaled deeply and slowly, while plotting Will’s eventual tragic death in his head.

“You’re no doctor,” he bit out after exhaling. Nico would never admit it, but he did feel a little better, a little less likely to decide someone might look better with a sword shaped hole in their gut.

Will gave a little grin, still breathing with Nico.

“Don’t sass your physician if you want to live,” he joked. “But seriously, Nico, you were starting to smoke again.” Sure enough, Nico glanced down and found dark fumes lingering by his hands.

“You have to be careful – high emotions can make it harder to recover from magical injuries. Your powers are naturally linked to your emotional state, and they might set your healing process back if you get upset.” Will’s eyes were full of concern, but his concern was less galling than Jason and Hazel’s. He actually _knew_ what he was talking about, he wasn’t being condescending for the sake of being condescending.

They sat in silence for a moment – just breathing.

“Wanna explain what just happened?” Will asked quietly. Nico met his gaze – there was no judgement – it was almost clinical in a way Nico appreciated. No choking sympathy or patronizing disappointment.

All the same, Nico was suddenly overcome by a wave of guilt about the way he had treated Jason and Hazel. He didn’t have friends to spare, and Hazel deserved far more from her older brother.

“I don’t know,” he said, searching for words he couldn’t find. “It’s just . . . I-I, I hate feeling weak.”

Nico couldn’t bear to meet Will’s eyes, praying that his doctor-patient confidentiality covered this conversation. He honestly couldn’t even understand why he was spilling his guts to this blond son of Apollo he had just met.

_“You have a choice. It won’t be easy, but it could be worth it. Your home could be worth it.”_

Nico squeezed his eyes shut. Splashes of muted color drifted just outside his reach.

“Needing help, makes me feel weak. I-I hate when people think I need help.”

He looked up at Will, expecting, expecting _something_ , some kind of reaction to his admission of weakness, of being _less than_ , of failing to be a hero. But Will just stared back evenly, gaze infuriatingly neutral.

“Sometimes,” Will said suddenly, eyes far off and misty, “I think the bravest thing someone can do is ask for help.”

Nico turned his statement over in his head – it just didn’t seem right, swords and battles and challenging unbeatable odds were the soul of bravery. Courage was strong and brash and fierce, asking for help was admitting weakness. Heroes didn’t ask for help, and maybe some part of Nico, some small part that was nearly crushed when Percy came back years ago with just a Mythomagic figure, still wanted to be the hero in someone’s story.

But, the more he thought about it, the more Nico could see the contours of a different kind of bravery, the kind built on others, on _friends_.

“Maybe,” Nico said slowly. “I guess I’ve never heard it put that way before.”

Will seemed startled by the sound of Nico’s voice, but recovered quickly, flashing a quick grin.

“We can talk more later, if you want,” he said, “but now it’s time for you to rest. Can’t have you overexerting yourself on your first day awake, can we?”

He stood, cracking his back before turning to face Nico.

“It is really good to see you awake, though,” Will said quickly, tripping over his words. Nico just stared.

“Anyway,” Will went on, ears tingeing pink, “I’ll see you later.”

He ducked out of the curtain before Nico could respond.

“Yeah,” Nico echoed softly to the space where Will had stood two seconds ago, “later.”

As Nico’s eyes fluttered closed, his thoughts were tumbling over each other and into each other.

Courage, bravery, weakness. Heroes and home. And just maybe, a friend.


End file.
